Dark of Heartness
by babychandler
Summary: I have been thinking about it all day: What if I was only ever second best? What if she was the one who never saw a future with us? CM
1. Anything can happen to anyone

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, or the situations, they belong to the creators of Friends. Want to say sorry to Arundhati Roy for steeling poor Esthas"Dark of Heartness" for my title, and some other references to God of Small Things as well. Read, enjoy and review!

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The thoughts swivel in my head. I can't believe that I have been so stupid. I have lost Monica. All because I'm not entirely ready to settle down; not entirely ready to vow to spend the rest of my life with her. Just because the thought still freaks me out a little. I don't want it to. Gods, I don't want it to. I just want to be with her. Monica. Still, I'm frightened. I'm scared of not having her, but I am scared of the future with her as well. Will I be everything she wants me to be? Will I be able to commit to her in every possible way, no matter what happens? Am I strong enough for that? _You had your chance, Chandler._ She told me, tears streaming down her face. I wanted to just curl up on the bed, snuggle the covers close to my body, hide away from the rest of the world and cry like I haven't cried since I was nine. I had my chance? Yes we talked about it, but she always said that it was fine; that it didn't matter if we waited a little longer. If she had told me that she couldn't wait; if she had told me what would happen I would have jumped at it. Just closed my eyes and jumped, because if I can't have her, then what difference does it make? I find myself unable to do anything but walk. Darkness falls over New York City, and still all I do is walk. I lost Monica. The self-depraving part of my conscious tells me that I shouldn't be surprised, really. This is Monica, a wonderful, funny, sexy woman and she stays with me? Me, as in not-always-so-funny Chandler Bing, who has major commitment issues and phobia of relationships which go past the first date. Of course it was just the sex. Amazingly good sex, but that was all. A thought creeps into my mind: _for two years?_ I realize that that's not it, but still, it's as good as any other explanation I have got. This doesn't make sense to me. She loves me, at least I am almost absolutely sure that she does, and she has lived with me for a year, our relationship certainly has moved beyond stages any of our previous relationships has ever been in, even hers with Richard. We shared an apartment, a bed, the CD's in the CD rack, toothpaste and shampoo, drawers in the closet and all the kitchen things which I weren't supposed to touch. The only thought that goes through my head is: _it's not fair!_ How come she gets to throw all that away? How come she gets to decide that this won't go any further? I may have problems committing to people and relationships, but this was something I was looking forwards to not freaking out about. I suppose now that I've been ready to commit to her for quite some time. It doesn't seem fair that she gets to decide that I wouldn't.

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"Tell her how you feel!" Phoebe's soft gaze meets mine over the rim of our coffee mugs, as we sit on her couch; me dressed in the sweats I wore when Monica told me about her decision; Phoebe wrapped in her dressing gown, seeing as I woke her up at two in the morning. "She loves you and not Richard, you know that, and if you feel the way she thinks you _should_ feel then everything is super, right?" I have already thought of that, in fact as soon as I realized that what scares me the most is not being with Monica ever again, I thought of running back to the apartment and propose. But I know Monica. She sticks by her decisions; and even if I had proposed she would have waved it off as a desperate measure. She still wouldn't have believed that I truly wanted to marry her and I don't know how to convince her.

"It's not that simple, Pheebs." I tell her dejectedly, and stare at my coffee. "It's not as if she only broke it off with me, she got engaged to Richard too, and I know she wouldn't ever break off an engagement." …_to him_… I add silently in my mind.

"Do you ever wonder if she was just spending her time with you, waiting for Richard to come back and propose?" The question hurts to the bone, but mostly because I have been thinking about it all day. What if I was only ever second best? What if she was the one who never saw a future with us? Nevertheless I react to Phoebe's question.

"Pheebs!" I blurt out, still not entirely sure that she is wrong. Phoebe gives me a glance, as if she is trying to read my mind through my eyes. She looks sad, and I know that she realizes how much this hurts me. I wish Monica would. Does she know? Does she know that I wandered the streets for eight hours, before I found myself at Phoebe's apartment building? Does she know that in the end, my curiosity for the sensation of being hit by a taxi almost took over my mind? Does she know that I can't eat, or sleep, or stop thinking about her?

"I'm sorry, but you know how much she loved him back then." As usual Phoebe manages to make me feel worse than before. "And, I mean, you have all these issues that you have to deal with. Y'know, the fear of commitment, that kind of crap." Suddenly I wonder if Phoebe's sole purpose in life is making people feel worse.

"But we love each other so much, don't you see that Phoebe? That has got to be just as much as she loved Richard, right?" I feel a little like I'm grasping for straws, and it feels pathetic doing that over something Phoebe's said. What does Phoebe know, really? At my question, Phoebe gives a hearty laugh. I cringe at the loudness.

"Of course not, silly!" She tells me, still chuckling a little, as if it is the funniest thing she has heard all year. My heart sinks. Am I the only one who thought that Monica loved me? "Monica loves you so much more than she ever loved Richard." Somehow, Phoebe's admission doesn't make me feel better, because obviously since Phoebe's latest update with Monica, something has changed. We don't say anything else. When she has finished her cup of coffee she gives me a slight kiss on the cheek and goes back to her room. I kick my shoes off, lie down on Phoebe's couch and cover myself up with a blanket. As I close my eyes to the pitch black room, I am left alone with my thoughts and images of Monica and I realize when I wake up early the next morning that I must have cried myself to sleep.

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The door to apartment number 20 is slightly open when I come by to pick up some clothes shortly after lunch the day after she kicked me out. I had decided to come when I thought that no one would be there, to avoid all of my friends. I just seem to be all out of luck. I immediately make out Ross' voice.

"For god's sake Monica, you really can't expect me to be happy about this!" I hear him give a sigh, and I stop in my tracks. "He's my best friend!" Doesn't he know that that is a lousy argument, one she knows just how to respond to and she does.

"You're my brother!" Her voice sounds dull, it's not as shrill or cheery as I always supposed it would be in the days after we got engaged… or well, after _she_ got engaged. "I don't care how you do it, but I am going to marry Richard and you are going to have to deal with that." I lean against the wall, feeling nauseous. She really is going to marry Richard? I bite my hand to stop from gagging.

"Have you stopped for one second to consider Chandler's feelings?" Rachel's voice is soft and quiet against the other two. Ross voices his agreement to the question and my heart feels a little less sore, knowing that Monica's closest friend and her brother defend me in front of her. "He loves you more than anyone has ever loved you before, you know that right?" Her voice is merely a whisper, and it is shaky, as if she's crying.

"You have no right to say that, Rachel!" Monica bites back, and I can hear that she is crying too. "You have no idea what goes on when you're not here; you know nothing about our relationship." I wonder what exactly she is getting at, am I doing something to her unconsciously? Am I hurting her? Am I keeping her down? What am I doing wrong?

"For Christ's sake, don't you see the look in his eyes when you walk into the room?" Rachel asks, louder this time, exasperatedly. "And what about your relationship? Chandler has managed to stay in this relationship with you for two years, Monica, and I don't see him freak out about it. Deep down you know that he wants more than this. You know that he wants the full deal one day." I am amazed that my friends know when Monica doesn't seem to. Is that the problem, don't I let my feelings show enough when I'm with her?

"It's not the same!" Monica argues, and now her voice is shrill in a completely different way. "I can be expected to wait forever. He's got to make up his mind." Is that really so? If I made up my mind this instant, would she take me back? I want to ask her, but I can't bring myself to move.

"You know it wouldn't be forever!" Ross comes to my defence again, and my love and respect for him grows to unknown heights. Does he really value me that high?

"He has made up his mind." Phoebe's soft voice startles me. I didn't think that there were any more people in the room. "Actually, I think he did a long time ago. You know, all the times that he has freaked out, like when he proposed to you for being sorry, it has been about his fear of losing you, not of committing to you. He spent last night crying on my couch, because he doesn't know how to get you back." No one says anything for a really long time, and I seriously ponder if I should go before anyone notices me.

"It's too late now." Monica says finally, and my legs stop supporting my weight. I grab the wall for support, and all my hopes leave me. They have told her the exact things I thought about telling her, and all she says is that it's too late. "I have already said yes to Richard, I-I can't take that back."

"Bullshit!" Ross screams and I hear his footsteps coming towards the door. He stops dead when he sees me, and our eyes meet for a split of a second before my strength mystically appears and I dash for the stairs.

"Chandler?" I hear him call after me but I keep running. Ross never catches up with me.


	2. It's best to be prepared

I never hear from Monica, because quite frankly, how would she know where to write or call? I never hear from Phoebe or Ross or Rachel, because maybe I wasn't that valuable to them after all. An especially good friend at my former job tells me that my old secretary sometimes get calls and letters from Joey. I never ask for them. I believe they are returned. I wish I could have asked Joey to move with me. I wish that there was someway I could have kept contact, but they all remind me of what I had with Monica. I never saw them since that day when I overheard their conversation with her. I live in London now. It's not without reminders, but I rarely go see touristy things and I stay away from the London Marriott. It's good money, and it's a lovely city. My company-paid apartment overlooks the Thames and the Docklands development. Apart from my friends and what little family I have, there really isn't anything I miss. The things I do miss, on the other hand, I miss like crazy.

"Mr. Bing, sir, the manager wishes to see you!" My secretary, the rather elderly lady Rose, pops her head inside my office and I smile happily at her. She is the one constant in my life right now. She makes sure I do what I need to do, and that I get it done on time. She is a very sweet little lady.

"Thank you, Rose!" I tell her as I pass her desk, and she gives me another smile. I have a vague idea why the manager wishes to see me. We are opening an office in New York, and everything considered there really is no reason why I shouldn't be the one to head it. I have given it a lot of thought, and I know that if he asks me I will decline. I don't want to be closer to Monica than possible. I announce myself at his secretary's desk and she lets me into his office.

"You wanted to see me?" I ask casually as I walk up to his desk, carefully avoiding the golf balls on the floor. He gives me a hearty smile, and asks me to sit down.

"Yes, as you know we are preparing to set up a new office in New York and I would like for you to head it, seeing as you are from the area and undoubtedly have contacts there." I shift uncomfortably, in my chair, as unwilling as ever to confront anyone on anything.

"Well, sir…" I start, and he holds up a hand, making me stop my mouth from moving in the unintelligible way I know that it is already moving.

"I should have made myself clearer, Mr. Bing. The topic is not up for discussion, I order you to go to New York."

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I order a beer and I step out on the restaurant's balcony. It's windy, as always, but the slight chilliness of the air doesn't bother me. I look out over the London skyline, and I sit down at one of the tables. I never thought that my boss would order me back to New York and leave me with an ultimatum of either going or quitting my job. I know that I should go. I have really enjoyed these four months in London, but I have always known that I would have to go back one day. I just don't want to go back to a place where the woman I still love chose someone else over me. I like it here, where I'm well off and have friends who don't know more than that I'm American, and who will leave it at that. I am not sure that I would be able to look Ross, or Rachel or Phoebe in the eye if I ever went to see them again. Could I really do that when I know that they know that I gave Monica up without a fight? I still wonder if I left too soon. I wonder what would have happened if I had entered the room that day and told her exactly how I felt. It is one thing to hear something from your friends and it is an entirely different matter to hear about it from the one it concerns. Would she have taken me back if I actually had proposed? My head tells me that Monica sticks with her decisions, but my heart isn't so sure. I smile at the thought of her, but the smile dies down as I realize that she is bound to be in the middle of preparing her wedding right now. Monica and Richard. No matter how hard I try I can't be happy for her. On a whim, be it the alcohol or the chilliness, I pick up my phone and I dial Joeys phone number. I wait through three tones and I know that in two more the machine kicks in.

"_Hello?_" The voice is soft in my ear, and it makes me smile. I had almost forgotten that Rachel moved in with Joey. She sounds tired, and I realize that I completely forgot about the time difference. "_Hello?_" She asks again, and I panic slightly.

"Hey!" I say, sunnier than I wanted to and I wait for her to answer. My thoughts race around in my head, and I pray that she will say something soon.

"_Who is this?_" She asks and my heart sinks a little, but I realize that it's just been too long since she heard my voice. Besides I am calling overseas from a cell phone and the wind is blowing so I shouldn't blame her.

"It's Chandler." I tell her and I wonder how she will react. I wonder if the other ones are there too or if she is alone. I wonder if she will wake them up. I wonder if she will be happy to hear from me.

"_Oh, my god!_" She whispers and I smile a little. "_Where have you been? We have been so worried about you!_" I wonder for a split of a second if that includes Monica, but I tell myself that I won't allow her to miss me or worry about me.

"Actually, I'm in London right now." I tell her and I'm amazed at how easy it is to talk to her, even though I haven't seen her in five months. "I've been here for four months. Got a great job and an apartment that overlooks the Thames." I trail off, and I know that I don't want to sound as happy as I just did.

"_London, huh?_" She says and she sounds more disappointed than relieved to hear from me. "_You sound like you're happy there…_" I admit to myself that maybe I am. I am happier here than seeing Monica prepare for her wedding to someone else. I am happier here where I can pretend that Monica doesn't exist. "_Why didn't you call?_" I get thrown off by her question. I knew it would come sooner or later but I didn't really expect it.

"I'm sorry I treated you all like you don't mean anything to me, Rach, 'cause you do; a lot. I-I, I just couldn't deal with anything that reminded me of Monica, and you all do." I hope that she will accept my reason, even though it's not really a good one.

"_So why is now different? How come you decided to call now?_" She sounds hurt, upset, as if the only reason I'm calling is so that I can disappear again and so that they'll worry even more. "_We have been so worried about you. Don't you see that? Joey is still devastated; an-and Monica…_"

"I don't want to hear about Monica." I tell Rachel, more roughly than I intended to and I pray that she won't hang up on me. "She made her choice, and this is how things turned out. She will have to accept that." I hear Rachel give a sigh; her breath makes it rasp in the receiver.

"_Just hear me out okay?_" She gives a small pause, obviously for me to protest, but I can't bring myself to. "_Monica's not really doing great._" She tells me and I want to protest so badly, but something holds me back. "_You going away really changed her a lot. I know that she was the one who took the decision, don't get me wrong there Chandler, but I think that she has realized that she screwed up._" For a split of a second I feel good because she feels bad, but then it just makes me queasy. I really don't want to cause Monica pain. I still love her. Maybe when I come back there is a chance we can work things out.

"I'm coming back to New York." I tell Rachel, deciding not to talk about Monica any longer. "My boss has decided that I should head our new office there."

"_That's great! When?_" Rachel's voice is urgent, and I wonder what is wrong. I don't dare to ask, because it seems like she won't want to talk about it anyway.

"In a month." I tell her, and I look out over London again. No matter how much I really do love the city, it starts to feel good to be going back to New York. "I suppose my job will get me an apartment."

"_Move back in with Joey._" She suggests, and I smile a little at the thought. I could never be that near to Monica and I tell Rachel so. She chuckles a little, and for a second I am confused. "_She's moving out in two months. So it won't be for too long. It's good you're coming back so soon, I think Monica wants to make her peace with you before the wedding._" My heart stops in my chest and I involuntarily look down at the square beneath me. A body splattering to the ground in a work of neo-modernism outside Tate Modern seems like an ironic enough way for me to go. I force myself into the heat of the restaurant inside.

"I've got to go." I tell her and I hang up. I run down the stairs and out of the museum. I don't stop until I'm at St Paul's, and then finally, I allow the thoughts to flow free. Monica is getting married. But Rachel just told me that she regretted her decision. That she had realized what a mistake she had made. Everything is too confusing, so I mentally shove it away. I am going to New York to work, and that is all I need to care about. Eleven hours later, in my sleep, Monica comes back to haunt me again and again. I spend most of my night crying and being sick. For the first time in months, I venture into the Darkness again.


	3. Into the Heart of Darkness

"The Dark of Heartness tiptoed into the Heart of Darkness" (God of Small Things, Arundhati Roy)

I'm really sorry that this chapter isn't longer, but I'll make it up to you.

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The Darkness is not really an appropriate name for what ever it is I experience, I argue with myself as I lie down on the bed again. It's not really dark, more like murky and what makes it so uncomfortable is the fact that no matter how much I rub my eyes, how many lights I turn on, things stay all foggy. I know that the pills help a little. The ones prescribed by the fancy doctor in Mayfair, my boss had me go to. Sometimes, though, I prefer the murky reality to the one I actually live in. In the Darkness there's only me; it stretches on for eternity, but in truth there isn't room for any more people. It's the only place where Monica can't go. I can handle the Darkness. It's no big deal. It's been my friend since I was nine. The only thing that has ever really loved me. Ever really wrapped itself around me to keep me safe. I try not to think about the fact that it's either the Darkness or the Real World, there is no doing both. I want so desperately to be in the same world as Monica, but I know that it will hurt. I know that it won't cushion the fall like the Darkness will. The Real World might make me get over Monica, stop loving her. The Darkness will let me live in the past. I know that it's wrong, but I want to. I decide to let myself fall, but I know that first, there is something I need to do, because once I fall there will be few chances of turning back, and I need to be sure I am doing it all for the right seasons. I pick up the phone on my night stand. I carefully dial Monica's phone number, not caring that it's two in the morning in New York.

"_Hello?_" She murmurs into the phone, and I can tell that she was sleeping. I wonder briefly if Richard is lying next to her, but I push that thought away.

"There are a few things I need you to know." I tell her, knowing that I need to do this quick if I am to be able to do it at all. "This… it just hurts too much, and I-I need to do this to be able to let go."

"_Chandler?_" The puzzlement that is evident in her voice is quickly replaced with relief, "_Oh, God, where have you been? We were so worried!_" I snort in disbelief, but she doesn't object, and I suppose that she might agree that she doesn't have a right to feel that way.

"I still love you." I tell her, and I have to fight to keep my voice loud and clear. "I need you to know that I was so close to coming to terms with the fact that I wanted to spend my life with you, and that if you had given me any hint that you would break us off if I didn't act fast I would have proposed. Not so that I could just be with you for the moment and keep postponing our wedding indefinitely, but so that I really would get to be with you forever. Because, I wanted to Monica, and you know that I wanted to." I stop, and I listen to her breaths, ragged as if she is crying. Suddenly I don't know what to say anymore. I regret ever calling her, but something keeps me from hanging up on her.

"_You know you couldn't do that, Chandler._" She says quietly and my anger rises in my throat. "_You're not the type of guy who settles down. You saw no future in us._" I wonder if she really was that blind, or if she is just trying to distance herself from the truth and the fact that the truth hurts her.

"And who are you to decide that, huh, Monica? I loved you. I couldn't imagine life without you, even though it freaked me out a little. It's all ruined now…" I break into tears. I don't know how she ever thought that I didn't love her, or need her. I told her every day. I feel myself slip into the Darkness, and I don't protest. "I love you so much…" I manage between sobs, as the room around me gets foggy at the edges. "It's all ruined…" I hang up the phone, and I fall back onto the bed. That evening a concerned co-worker stops by to make sure that I am okay, since they haven't heard from me all day. My only conscious thought since I hung up the phone at eight in the morning is that it stings when the iv-needle is pushed into my arm and a few seconds later when the tube is stretched slightly as they carry me down to the ambulance. Perhaps it is all ruined now.


	4. Paradise Pickle

I know it took a while and I'm truly sorry. I'll try to update soon, but don't expect it until after the second, because that is my final exam. Enjoy!

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My new therapist's name is Eleanor. She is recently graduated, has brown hair and reminds me slightly of Rachel. She tells me that I can tell her anything. I don't really want to. She has been to see me for a week now, and I have yet to say hello. As I close my eyes, I see Monica. I wonder if it might help if I cut them out, but I know that the images are produced from a memory in my head, and that cutting my eyes out would help the matter extremely little. Still I wish I could. Eleanor sits down on the chair next to my bed and she looks at the flowers on my bedside table. Rose has sent me an awful lot of things, everything from doughnuts and chocolate to flowers. I know I should feel touched, but I only feel empty.

"I see you have a card up there from your mother." She indicates a pink card which I find hideously ugly. I shrug and look away. "The nurse told me to tell you that she rang earlier this morning to say that she was flying to London." I snap my head back to look at her, shocked. I never expected my mother to care that much about me. "We would have to get you to talk by then, I'd suppose." She says, continuing her eternal one-sided conversation. "Oh, and before I forget, a Mr Ross Geller has been calling for you three times this morning…" I sit up in bed, suddenly a lot more curious.

"Ross?" I whisper hoarsely, and Eleanor looks slightly pleased. I have a hard time figuring out how on earth Ross has managed to find out that I am in a hospital, but then I realise that it is the work of my darling mother. Of course. I wonder briefly if Monica knows as well, and I suppose that she does. I meet Eleanor's dark eyes, and I clear my throat. "Just Ross?" I wonder why Joey hasn't called, or Phoebe or Rachel. I don't even dare to entertain the thought that Monica would have made an effort, because I know that it would never be anything more than wishful thinking.

"Well, a woman called to get some information on your condition earlier, but she didn't leave a name." My heart aches a little, as I allow myself to think that maybe, just maybe, it might be Monica. Still, it could be my father, not wanting to embarrass me. It could be Rachel or Phoebe, too worried or confused to leave a name. I decide to go with my father, because it eases the pain from the fact that he still hasn't called for me, even though I know that the nurses placed a call to his hotel in Vegas. Still, I know that he would use his real name if he called, and no one would assume that his dark voice belongs to anything but a man. "She was American, if that helps." Eleanor adds, and I wince. It still doesn't narrow it down at all. She squints at me curiously, and then smiles enigmatically. "Are you expecting a call from someone?" I shrink away from her, further out on the bed. I shake my head. I know that it will help me to talk about Monica and what she did, but I can't get the words to come out. "I'll listen if you change you mind, Chandler." She says sweetly and reaches for her cup of coffee that sits on the side table.

"Monica." I say weakly. I bite down on my lips to keep myself from saying anything else, but somehow the words keep coming. "She used to be my girlfriend in New York." I tell Eleanor the story of how I met Monica, right from the beginning and the words can't seem to stop coming. I tell her of how we met that one Thanksgiving when I had just gone off to college. I tell her how Ross, her big brother, is my best friend, and that she and I hit it off really bad, but that eventually, after college, we became friends. I go on to tell her about London and Ross' marriage to Emily and how Monica was sad and how we ended up having sex and how we then just happened to fall in love. I want Eleanor to tell me that what Monica and I started was a bad idea from the start. I want her to say that it would never have lasted, no matter what I had done. She remains silent, just giving me a small nod to urge me on. I tell her of my fear of commitment and how I tend to freak out. She smiles a little when I say that I truly waited for it to sneak up on me and pull me down from behind, but how I just grew into every situation that came at us; the almost-marriage in Vegas, the fights, the move-in. I tell her how I knew I never wanted to be away from Monica, but that it still scared me a little to think of anything permanent. "And then one day, she meets her old boyfriend Richard, whom she wanted to marry once, an-and he tells her that he still loves her and that he is ready to marry her now." I fall silent, and Eleanor looks expectantly at me. My whole body aches as I say the next few words, "She said yes."

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A hand is slowly stroking mine, and for a split of a second, in my mind, I imagine that the hand on mine is Monica's. Only for a split of a second. I slowly open my eyes, and they focus on my mother, who is looking slightly worried.

"Sweetheart." She whispers slightly when my eyes stop fluttering and stick to her. "I'm so sorry, honey." I know what she means. She has been with me all too many times when I have let the Darkness take control. She knows that her divorcing my father was the moment which started it all, and I know that even though neither of my parents would have been parents in a perfect world; they do love me and wish nothing bad for me. I shake my head to let her know that I don't blame her. I have always preferred the Darkness to the unfair reality which I seem to have ended up in.

"Your friends are here." She tells me and I sit up slightly. I look out through my window, through the semi-closed blinds, and I spot them. Rachel and Phoebe leaning against each other, asleep. Ross is reading a paper, while Joey is munching on a candy bar. At first I don't notice her. She isn't sitting next to the others. I don't see her until she walks past the window restlessly. She looks a mess, her hair is longer than I remember it, just like Richard wants it to be, and it is untidy. Her shirt is wrinkled and I notice with dread that she is pregnant. She peeks inside as she passes the little window and for a second our eyes meet and she stops. Her face is pale, and her red and puffy eyes tell me that she is either tired or has been crying, or both. She turns her head around slightly and when she looks back Ross and Joey are already on their way over to the window as well. Phoebe and Rachel are slowly getting off the couch, but they haven't got off it by the time Ross and Joey come to stand by the window and block my view. Joey waves uncertainly, and I try a weak smile. I can't really believe that after ignoring them for more than five months they would still, all of them fly to Europe to see me when I get sick. The thought makes me feel terrible. My mom turns to look at my five friends as well, and she smiles a little.

"They were very worried about you." She tells me and gives me a warm smile. "Especially Monica." She adds with a wink, and I frown. I get the feeling that my mother is playing a game, like those the characters in her books play with their friends who happen to be in love and not knowing it. I realize that perhaps, my mother is drawn to love that is the way it is supposed to be, as opposed to her three-week marriages to teenage playboys and old multi-millionaires. I shake my head, trying to tell myself that no matter how much I love Monica, it can't ever go back to what it was. She is pregnant and getting married and I will have to accept that. Somehow. "Do you want me to let them in?" Mom asks me, and I shrug. I don't really _want_ to, but I know that I owe them.

"Yeah." I say quietly and mom squeezes my hand lovingly before she gets off the chair to open the door. She tells me that she will go and talk to the doctor, and I hear her tell my friends that they can come in if they want to. Joey is inside the door the second mom has finishes talking, closely followed by Phoebe and Rachel. I smile a little at them as they slowly approach the bed. My eyes keep drawing back to the door, waiting for Monica and Ross to enter. After a little while Ross emerges and closes the door behind him. My heart sinks a little deeper in my chest, but somehow I feel a little relieved as well.

"What's happened to you, man?" Joey asks, obviously concerned, as he comes to stand next to my bed. Ross immediately joins him, echoing the question. I give a sigh; how can I tell them that one of their friends, Ross' little sister, hurt me enough to get me so depressed that I would willingly enter the Darkness, something I know very well will lead to death by starvation and dehydration within a week.

"Well, I think the correct term for it is depression." I tell them, smiling as to cover up the seriousness of it all. Rachel's hand grabs mine, and she sits down on the bed next to me. Joey turns away and starts towards the door. Ross reaches out a hand to stop him, and my two best friends exchange a look of anger and disappointment that makes me queasy.

"Will you be okay?" Rachel asks in an obvious attempt to divert my gaze from Ross and Joey. It works as I focus on her and Phoebe sitting on my bed. I shrug, and I know that they haven't fed me enough pills for me to actually care if I am okay, especially not after seeing that Monica is pregnant. "You will be okay, right?" She asks when all she receives for an answer is my shrug.

"I suppose." I tell them, and Rachel shies away a little because of my indifference towards my own recovery. "Given time, I'll probably be alright." I relent and they all look a little more hopeful. We chat a little about things that don't matter to any of us. The Knicks' last game, a new hot waitress at Central Perk, Joey's last failed audition and one of Phoebe's weird clients. No one mentions either Monica or Richard, even though I know that they are on all of our minds. Joey is unusually quiet, and he stays at the back of the room. In the middle of a rather boring story about an incident at Ross's work, Joey suddenly stands up.

"Is this… all of this because of Monica?" He asks, and his voice seems weirdly loud and clear. "Are you in a hospital because you didn't want to live after what she did?" I look away because he just put the truth out for all to see, and it wasn't a truth I was very comfortable displaying. I don't want to be the sad fucker who kills himself because of a broken heart. That's not who I am. I hide behind sarcasm and jokes, and I'm fine with it. This time, though, it was just too much to take, because it was Richard, and how could I ever measure up to Richard? Talk about a kick in the crotch. I suppose that it was just one time too many.

"Joey!" Ross hisses angrily, but I know that deep down he wants to know as well. In fact, I think that even Monica wants to know, on some level any way. Still, I'm not strong enough to admit to the truth.

"I-I…" I begin, but I can't seem to say the words. "I don't know… I-I don't want to talk about it." Joey looks as if he wants to ask me more things, but we all see the look Ross sends him, and he keeps quiet. An awkward silence falls over the room and we all try not to stare at each other.

"I wrote a song about a naked horse last week." Phoebe says all of a sudden and we all burst out laughing at Phoebe's weirdness, and I feel forever grateful to her. She always knows how to make me smile, even though I know that she is the one of us that has been through the worst things. She sings it to us, a little more false than usual because she doesn't have her guitar, but I love it. I smile at her when she finishes. "Hah!" She says triumphantly, "I made you smile!" We all smile a little more.

"Ross, honey?" My mother's voice startles me a little because I never realized that she had entered my room. I turn my head up and I see that she is only standing halfway inside my doorway. She is holding her arm around Monica, whom she is keeping out of the room. Ross seems torn between me and Monica for a little while before he tells me that he will be back soon and goes to talk to Monica. I can hear her muffled sobs, and I wonder why she is sad.

"Did she call _him_ again?" Phoebe asks my mother and I immediately know that _him_ is Richard Burke, and far out at the edges, despite the heavy medication I'm on, I can see the murkiness closing in on me. Rachel seems to notice my far-off look and she squeezes my hand again.

"Not now, Pheebs." She says softly, and the murkiness disappears with her voice. "Honey?" She asks, and I focus my gaze on her. She smiles sweetly at me and it makes the murkiness go further away. "Monica really wants to see you… are you… I mean, do you…"

"No." I tell them firmly, and they all look a little ashamed for having asked. But the truth is that I would love to see Monica, I just can't, because it would hurt so much, and I'm not strong enough. Phoebe, however, doesn't seem willing to let it go.

"She broke off her engagement to Richard last week." My stomach turns, and I don't know if it is because of the mentioning of his name or the fact that they were engaged. I force my teeth together to keep from gagging. Rachel smacks Phoebe on the leg to keep her from saying anything else, but it seems as if Phoebe is set on torturing me today. "It was the day after you called her, you know." I feel tears falling down my cheeks, and I cover my face. "She never really loved him." I want her to shut up. I want them all to leave, because it is more than I can take. It doesn't really help that they tell me that Monica left me for someone she doesn't love, in fact in only hurts more.

"That's enough Phoebe!" Rachel says harshly, and I can feel their weighs lifting from the bed. The door closes behind them, but I'm not able to look up. I wonder if Joey left with them or if he's still in the room. I move my hands from my tear wet face.

"I'm so sorry, man." Joey says from where he sat before, and on some level I want him to leave. We sit for a few more minutes in silence before my doctor enters and Joey quickly tells me that he will be with the others. I give a sigh as he closes the door. Why is everything so complicated?

----------------------

I wake up realizing that someone is in my room. Even before I open my eyes I know that it is Monica. I tell myself that if I don't open my eyes, she won't know that I am awake, so I try to lie as still as possible in a childish attempt to fool her. Of course she doesn't buy it.

"Chandler?" She asks, and I force myself to open my eyes. Monica is still by the door, as if she didn't dare to go any further. The first thought that emerges in my mind is that pregnancy definitely suits her. She is more beautiful than I remembered her. I quickly force that thought away, because firstly, it's not my baby, and secondly, she still hurts me so much.

"Go away." I tell her, but she doesn't move. I glare at her angrily, but it doesn't help. I give a sigh. She is resting her hands on her stomach and I wonder briefly how far along she is. She's not that big, but I don't know anything about things like that, after all, all I have as a reference is Phoebe, and she carried triplets.

"I need to talk to you." She tells me and takes a cautious step forwards, towards me and the bed. I sit up straight and she stops. I suppose that the look on my face tells her that I really don't want to be close to her. She looks like she wants to say something, and her mouth moves, but she remains silent. "I'm having your baby…" She tells me, and while I try to swallow those words she looks at me intently. I shake my head, trying to get rid of that thought, because it can't be true. I don't want it to be true.

"No." I tell her, as if I actually have something to say in the matter. She looks hurt. "It's _his_." I don't mean to spit it at her; I just can't seem to refer to him in a normal voice. She shakes her head.

"I found out that I was pregnant two weeks before I broke up with you." She tells me and I feel like my world crashes to my feet. Again. How could she not tell me? I don't know what to do. My throat seems too narrow, and no matter how deep my breaths are I can't seem to get any air down. I fling the covers off of my legs and I sit on the edge of the bed. I hear Monica's soft sobs, but they only make me angrier.

"Get out!" I tell her, daring to turn my head to look at her. She truly looks miserable, but I am too hurt to worry about that. "You disgust me!" I spit at her, and she flinches a little. "Get the hell out!" Her gaze searches for mine, but she doesn't move.

"Please." She says and her broken voice and her shaking body soften me a little and I nod, still extremely angry with her. "I'm sorry Chandler." She says, and I feel that she means it even though I'm not entirely ready to accept it or forgive her. "I freaked out." She tries to explain, and in another situation I might have found it ironic. _She_ freaked out; while I was beginning to realize that I wouldn't ever do that again. "I kept thinking of how we weren't ready, and how bad you might react and I didn't know what to do. Then Richard showed up one day and said that he still loved me and that he wanted to marry me and have children with me, and I just… I did what made most sense to me. I accepted. I knew that you would feel trapped if I dumped a baby on you and I decided that I would rather take the decision myself. I should have known that it would hurt you." My feelings are in such disarray that I don't know what I feel any longer. The only way I know how to handle it is to pretend that it doesn't matter; that it doesn't bother me in the least. Not the baby, not her betrayal, she can't see how she presses me down below the surface and holding me there until I involuntarily draw in water and drown. She looks confused and I realize that my expression must have changed drastically. Even though my insides are in upheaval my face is calm.

"It was for the better." I tell her, even though the thought of Richard bringing up _my_ child twists my heart until I'm sure it will break. "I mean, I'm not really parent-material, and, I, I mean, this way everyone is happy right?" Monica looks pale, and she shakes her head slowly, turning around to leave.

"I shouldn't have come." She says, carefully drying her tears. "I'm really sorry for not telling you, because you deserved to know from the beginning. I know you wouldn't have left, Chandler, and I'm sorry it took me this long to realize that." She leaves me alone with my thoughts and when the door closes behind her, I break into tears again, because it is so much more simple than keeping it all inside. I huddle up on my bed, my knees against my chest, fighting off the panic and the hurt. Suddenly a pair of arms are around me, and I automatically assume that they are my mothers. It's not until I draw a breath that I realize it's not her, but it feels so nice that I can't be bothered to break free. Monica holds me for what seems to be an eternity, and I realize that I have missed her so terribly much. I run my hand slowly over her stomach, finally realizing that there is a tiny baby in there that is mine. When I touch her she whispers that she is sorry; over and over again, as she squeezes me a little tighter. I still feel angry and sad and hurt, but I know that she knows that she did wrong, and it helps a little.

"I'm sorry." She says again, and she plants a tiny kiss on the top of my head. I close my eyes, and I wish that things were the way they were before. Her hand stroking up and down my back tells me that she wants that as well. "I still love you." She says, and I don't even bother to ask myself 'in what way?', instead I let my hand find its way back to her stomach. I feel her smile against my head, and I smile a little too, just a tiny little bit. After we have a real talk, I badly want her and me to be an 'us' again.


End file.
